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by eledhwenlin



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-25
Updated: 2011-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 02:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eledhwenlin/pseuds/eledhwenlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon is watching. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't look away.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "voyeur". Not really about voyeurism, but c'est la vie.
> 
> Unbetaed as of now.

Brendon is sure that this is one of Spencer's plots. Spencer wants to see him. Or else he would have closed the door. As it is, the door is open. Brendon's pretty sure that if Spencer hadn't wanted Brendon to see (or hear), he would have closed the door. Closed and locked it and put some music on to mask the sexy noises. That's Brendon would (does) do. (They talked about this and Brendon wasn't sure he could do it, didn't even want to try. He should have known something was up when Spencer just accepted that.)

But the door is open. There's light inside Spencer's room, which means he's awake (Spencer's one of those strange people who prefer to sleep in total darkness; he says it's because it's the most restful and shit, but private Brendon thinks he is just glad that he doesn't have to sleep during all times of the day anymore; touring is awesome, but Brendon doesn't think they'll ever pay off the sleep debt they rack up during it). It's the lamp on Spencer's night table, Brendon finds out. (Brendon just wants to say good night. They haven't actually slept in separate rooms for months and Brendon hurts from just thinking about going to sleep alone. He at least wants to give Spencer a good night kiss.)

The point is, open door plus lights on means Brendon can totally walk into Spencer's room and not expect him to lie naked on his bed and have two fingers up his ass. It's a strangely mesmerising view. Brendon is pretty sure he makes some noise. Spencer's hand is shiny-wet from the lube and he has both feet planted on his bed, arching his bed to get a better angle. Brendon's kind of convinced that he keeps making noises, which turn fast more embarrassing for him. His skin feels hot, overheating, and his knees are weak because, wow. Spencer's pressing in deeper, his other hand lazily jerking himself. It's like Brendon's brain is way too occupied to process the whole situation, so it does it in batches and pieces. Brendon keeps noticing all these small things, like the way Spencer's arms and legs flexes when he moves. He is pretty vocal, a steady breath of moans and tiny little gasps. His skin is shining with sweat.

There's a chair right there. Brendon is not exactly sure why it is there, but thank fuck, it is. (Spencer totally planned this. Brendon is aware that he's conning Brendon into giving Spencer what he wants. The thing is, Brendon is really considering it.) He collapses onto it and keeps staring. A distant part of his brain points out that maybe, just _maybe_ , leaving would be a better option, but he quenches that voice pretty quickly.

Spencer groans loudly and Brendon looks up at his face. Spencer's fingers are pretty. Brendon has no problem admitting that Spencer's long, strong fingers are also very talented and that Spencer's fingers inside Brendon's ass feel absolutely awesome. He has no idea what he'd call Spencer's fingers inside Spencer's ass, though. It's kind of stupidly hot, but also way more. Thinking isn't Brendon's strongest point at the moment.

Anyway, he looks up and Spencer has his eyes closed, is biting his lip and frowning. He keeps pushing, but at this angle he's in as far as he can go without hurting himself. He seems so anguished that Brendon gets up and walks over. He thinks he's overstepping a thousand different boundaries, but god, he does not care.

Spencer is still straining his arm and Brendon just reacts. He lightly touches Spencer's hand, the back of it. He puts his other hand on Spencer's knee, rubbing it gently. Spencer immensely surprises Brendon by laughing. He laughs, a dark, sensual sound, and Brendon knows what it means, he's lost this battle of wills, but fuck. He hadn't seen this coming.

Spencer opens his eyes and he's grinning at Brendon, wide and mischievous. "I was wondering when you'd finally come over," he says breathlessly. "I was slowly running out of patience."

"Fuck you," Brendon says, his voice tight and high. "Yeah, that was the intention," Spencer says, calm as you please. Brendon forces himself to breathe in slowly and deeply. Then he concentrates on getting that breath out again, just as nicely slow. "Okay," he says. He is pretty onboard with that plan, no matter his earlier objections.

The bottle of lube is lying next to Spencer. Brendon coats his fingers and nudges Spencer's hand aside. Spencer protests a little until Brendon sinks in one finger as deep as he can go. "Yeah," Spencer breathes. "That, exactly that."

A second finger follows. It is absolutely fascinating to watch Spencer relax immediately into it, ask for more and faster and _just so_. It's easy to follow his directions.

By the time Brendon has fit four fingers into Spencer, he thinks he needs some serious cooling down time before the actual fucking part or it'll be over in like five seconds. He doesn't think Spencer would appreciate that.

"Spencer," he says feebly while he pulls his fingers out. "Do you want some water? I want some water. I'll get us some water."

"Brendon," Spencer says in that voice, and Brendon shivers. "Come here." Brendon obeys and Spencer pulls him down onto him. "Spence," he breathes, "I'm gonna-"

"You won't," Spencer tells him in that imperative voice. "You won't until I tell you that you can."

The whole situation just becomes a whole 'nother level of hot. Brendon actually whimpers, because fuck. "Okay," he says.

Spence is tight and hot. Brendon pauses when he's all in, eyes closed, and concentrates on breathing deeply. Under him, Spencer makes an impatient noise. He grabs Brendon's ass, hauling him in even closer. "Move," Spencer says, his voide dark and rough. "Fuck me."

Brendon does not come in that moment. He thinks he deserves a fucking gold medal for that. He starts thrusting slowly, gently, angling for that sweet spot. Spencer keeps pushing at Brendon, to go faster and deeper, until Brendon hits his prostrate. "Yes, that," he says, and Brendon works well with directions. He focuses on moving his hips perfectly in rhythm, not missing a beat. Spencer is arching his back, pushing against Brendon, but otherwise he just lets Brendon do his thing. He is running his hands over Brendon's back, patting his shoulders, squeezing his ass and rubbing at his arms.

"You're doing good," he pants into Brendon's ear. He does these awesome little gasps in between words, and they go straight to Brendon's cock. Liquid warmth pools in Brendon's stomach, and he almost purrs in response. Spencer laughs at him, a giddy little sound, and Brendon thinks that he can hold on as long as Spencer needs him to. His orgasm is building, he can feel it tugging at him, but he concentrates on maintaining his rhythm, hitting Spencer's prostrate, _being good_.

"Oh, god, come on," Spencer says, voice breaking slightly, as he grabs Brendon's ass, pulling at him. "Faster, god, now." Brendon realises with a pang of sadness that Spencer's close. He is thrown for a moment when he becomes aware that he doesn't want it to end so soon. "Sh, come on, baby," Spencer gasps, his fingers digging into Brendon's flesh. "You're so fucking good."

"Now?" Brendon manages to press out. He sounds hoarse, like he's been screaming all night, and the world seems reduced to only their bodies right now. "Yeah, baby," Spencer says, but he's rubbing the small of Brendon's back gently, "not much longer, okay?" Then he seems to get what Brendon's really asking and his eyes glint. "Unless you can make it even better," he adds with a smile. "Can you?"

Brendon leans forward and kisses Spencer deeply. Spencer tastes like the chicken they had for dinner and the bottle of beer he had afterwards. Brendon knows that Spencer likes being kept on edge. Spencer likes blow jobs that never end, makes Brendon pull off when he's getting close, until he's calmed down some. It works well because Brendon loves giving blow jobs. Blow jobs plus making out for long periods of time? Totally awesome.

Brendon's not entirely sure how to translate this into fucking Spencer. Brendon tries to move one hand down to Spencer's cock, but Spencer stops him. "No hands," he says, smiling. "Just like this." So Brendon changes his rhythm, going from fast and deep to slow and shallow thrusts. Spencer gasps surprised, but he doesn't admonish Brendon. He smiles, in fact, and Brendon thinks he's doing okay. Whenever he thinks Spencer is getting to close, he changes his rhythm again. Spencer keeps kissing him, whispers dirty litte nothings in his ear, and Brendon feels like he's floating. His arms are shaking form having to hold him up for so long, and his legs are tired. He still feels like he has to come every second now, but Spencer hasn't given him permission yet and. Brendon likes it this way. He knows it'll be worth it.

"Brendon," Spencer whines when Brendon starts slowing down again. "God, you--this is so good, you're so good, but c'mon, make me come." He whispers quietly, "you've been good enough for tonight." Brendon whimpers, but he speeds up his thrusts. Spencer tugs his head close and whispers into Brendon's ear: "I want you to come when I do. Understood?"

Brendon nods. His hips are snapping fast against Spencer's, taking him deep and fast, and it's too much stimulation now and Brendon doesn't think he can hold on for much longer, when Spencer jerks and shudders and comes with a shout. His come hits Brendon's stomach and Brendon feels hot-white explode from the base of his spine upwards. He thrusts deep into Spencer before coming--loudly he thinks, but nothing registers past the tight heat of Spencer around him, the heat of Spencer's hands on his back and the overwhelming sense of accomplishment. He did good, Brendon thinks.

They both just stay like that. Brendon's entire body feels like his bones have been turned to mush. Besides, Spencer is a comfortable pillow. "Fuck," his pillow says. Spencer tightens his arms around Brendon, hugging him close, and he presses a kiss against Brendon's temple. "Brendon, fuck." Brendon thinks Spencer sounds a little bit awed. "That was ..."

"Sh," Brendon murmurs. "'Twas good." Spencer laughs. "It was fucking amazing," he says. "See, I was totally right and this works." Brendon groans in mock-frustration. "I'm still inside you," he points out. "And despite that I still fucking topped you," Spencer replies, but he's grinning widely, and Brendon fucking loves him. "You did," he says and kisses Spencer. It's the easiest way to shut him up. Spencer sighs against him, happily, and Brendon thinks that, yeah, this works and they'll totally do it again. And next time Spencer won't even have to play any games to get it.


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